


Heart of the Earth

by purewanderlust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewanderlust/pseuds/purewanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When people start mysteriously dying in a small Montana town, the Winchesters are on the job, but they may be in for more than they anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart of the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2012 spn_reversebang; this is my first time ever trying this. The story is set some time early in season 4, so it's necessarily AU from that point. The Spanish in the story is my own translation, and I'm a little rusty, so any mistakes are mine. The monster-of-the-week is based on real mythology, but with a couple tweaks to make it fit my purposes. No harm was intended with these changes. 
> 
> Art by the lovely odysseaia! Thanks so much to therellbepeace3 for a wonderful beta job! And of course, thank you to the lovely people over at spn_reversebang who set this whole thing up!

[ ](http://writewanderlust.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/474/1501)

“Good goddamn Sammy, why aren’t you more excited about this?” Dean demanded, stuffing the last of his clothes into his duffle and flinging it over his shoulder. “This is some serious Temple of Doom shit!”

“Five dead in five days, Dean,” Sam retorted. “Not something to be particularly excited about.”

“Killjoy,” Dean said, but his voice was still pretty cheerful. “Do you think we’ll get to ride in one of those mine carts?”

Sam shook his head fondly and followed his brother over to the Impala. “I think you need to stop confusing reality with movies.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, because as you know, werewolves and vampires and all the other monsters are only real in the movies, right?”

Sam didn’t bother responding to that, just threw his best bitchface in his brother’s direction. Dean let his big green eyes widen in that patented _who, me?_ expression of his. He reached forward to flip the radio on, and Sam settled back into the passenger seat as they roared out of the motel parking lot.

He was in a good mood. Despite what he’d said to Dean, Sam was pretty pleased with the case too—serial murders in Montana were a lot less stressful than all the angels and demons they’d been dealing with recently—but he’d never admit it. Sam was a little brother through and through, and that meant harassing Dean was pretty much the job description.

Dean knew it too, if the smirk on his face was any indication. Sam indulged in a few moments of staring at his brother’s profile before he scooted down in his seat so he could rest his head against the back of the bench. The growl of the car and Dean mumble-singing along to Metallica was as good as a lullaby, and it wasn’t long before Sam fell asleep.

*

“Wolf Peak, Montana. Population 1132,” Dean read as the city sign flashed by and Sam blinked slowly awake. “Probably no hope of a good drinking hole, then, hmm?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “More importantly, what if there’s no motel? I really don’t feel like sleeping in the car.”

Dean grinned. “If you’d been with it when I stopped to get gas, you’d know there’s just one, Sleeping Beauty.” He pulled into the parking lot of the Motor Inn, rolling to a stop at the lobby, perfectly timed. “You gonna go get the room since your lazy ass slept through the whole drive?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Sam muttered, but he took the credit card Dean flicked in his direction and headed into the lobby. There was a blast of music from behind him, what sounded like the first riffs of _Back in Black_ , and Sam shot an exasperated look over his shoulder before heading inside.

“Evenin’ son,” the man behind the counter said with an easy grin. “What can I do ya for?”

Sam smiled back automatically, his reassuring I’m-a-trustworthy-college-kid smile, even though it had been a long time since college, and longer still since he was trustworthy. It seemed to work well enough, though, because the old man’s own grin broadened. “We’re just looking for a room for a couple nights,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the window, and Dean. He slid his credit card across the counter and waited.

“Lemme see what I’ve got,” the manager said, typing on his ancient computer with painstaking single-finger strokes. “King-sized bed?”

Sam flushed bright red. “I—I no, uh, two queens,” he stammered, mortified. No matter how many times people made the assumption, it still got to him. Probably because he’d always kind of wished it were true, but Sam had figured out a long time ago that that was a particular fact best kept to himself.

The clerk shot him a disapproving look over his glasses. “Now, son, there’s no reason to be dishonest with me. We’re open-minded folks here.”

 _Not_ that _open-minded_ Sam thought a little hysterically. “Uh, but—” The clerk shoved a key into his hands, along with his card, even as he tried to protest.

“Room 108, down on the end,” he told Sam, gesturing. “It’s the very corner room. Take care now.” Before Sam could offer another protest, he vanished into the back room, taking all hopes of a double with him.

“Goddammit,” Sam muttered under his breath, but there was nothing for it, so he trudged back out to the Impala and climbed in. “We’re down on the end.”

Dean gave him a questioning sideways glance, picking up on the change in his mood, but he didn’t say anything as he put the car into gear and drove them down to the end of the building. In fact, he kept quiet until they’d unloaded their bags and unlocked the motel room door. Then Dean stopped dead in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on the single king-sized bed. “Dude, what the hell?”

Sam sighed, shutting and bolting the door behind him. “The manager thought we were together.”

Dean shot him an incredulous look. “What, so you decided to go with it?!”

“Of course not, Dean! I told him it wasn’t like that and he didn’t believe me. He thought I thought he was some kind of homophobic asshole and got all offended. He literally wouldn’t give me a room with two beds!”

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Dean groused.

“Then _you_ go talk to him,” Sam snapped, “This is not my fault.”

“Oh, this is definitely your fault,” Dean said. “You’re the one that’s giving off all the gay vibes.”

Sam threw his duffle down and went to set up his laptop on the table in the corner. “Whatever. Either go convince the guy we need a double or quit bitching.”

Dean hesitated, eyes scanning his brother’s face. Sam wondered what he was seeing there, if all his secrets were obvious in his eyes, but no way he was going to be the first to look away.

“Eh, single’s cheaper anyway,” Dean said, finally dropping his gaze. “Let’s order pizza.” He grinned hopefully and Sam wondered whether he was glad that Dean had let it go, or unhappy that he wasn’t going to complain to the manager.

Life was really complicated when you were in love with your brother.

*

“Okay, let’s go over this one more time,” Sam said as he opened another tab on the computer.

Dean groaned loudly from where he was sprawled out on the bed, half-eaten pizza abandoned back in the box next to him. Dean didn’t seem to have much of an appetite since Hell. “Dude, c’mon, it’s too late to go talk to anybody, let’s just watch that _Die Hard_ marathon.”

“Five deaths in five days,” Sam pointed out. “Mean’s there’ll probably be another tomorrow, so we’ve gotta work fast.”

Dean chucked a piece of pizza crust at his head, but Sam was quicker, ducking it easily and giving him a pointed look.

“Okay, fine, Geekboy. Lay it on me.”

Sam ignored the jibe and clicked back to the first article. “First death was five days ago. Parker Case was found in the woods on the outskirts of town. His hands and heart were missing, as were all of his personal effects. Autopsy said he was skinned alive, and had been there for six hours or less. Belle Spencer was found about twenty yards from where Parker was found the day before, same story. Then Jenevieve Davies, Sean Tyler, and Emily Marshall, one after another. Same thing with all of them, hands and hearts missing, no personal items. All of them skinned, shoulders down.”

“So we’re thinking ritual sacrifice here,” Dean prompted.

Sam nodded. “Mmhmm. And the cult is probably centralized in the abandoned mines out near the woods. Bobby said they haven’t been used in ages, but the police haven’t searched them for the killer because of structural insecurities.”

“What losers,” Dean snorted. “So tomorrow we check out the mines?”

“Hold your horses, Indy,” Sam scoffed. “We don’t wanna go down there without knowing what we’re dealing with first. For all we know, there could be some pagan god living down there. That means…”

“Research?” Dean moaned, flopping back on the pillows—and Christ that was not a mental image Sam needed just then. “I _hate_ research.”

“I had no idea,” Sam deadpanned, “but we’re not gonna get ourselves decapitated because we weren’t prepared.” The _I just got you back_ remained unspoken, but he knew Dean heard it anyway.

“Ugh. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a nerdy brother,” he said, but he was grinning. “ _Die Hard_ now?”

Sam gave a long-suffering sigh, which probably wasn’t incredibly effective, as he was grinning too. “Fine. Scoot over.”

Dean bounced obligingly to one side of the bed so Sam could sit next to him, leaning back against the headboard. He switched the television on with the remote he’d been clutching for the last ten minutes and they settled in to watch Bruce Willis kick some ass.

It was no surprise to Sam when his brother fell asleep less than half an hour into the first movie. Dean had been driving all day, and hadn’t had the luxury of falling asleep like Sam had. He was slumped over on his brother’s shoulder, mouth hanging slightly open in a way that should’ve been gross but was actually kind of endearing.

Sam stayed very still, careful not to jostle his brother; Dean hadn’t been sleeping well since he’d gotten back, either. Sam tried to watch the movie, but his eyes were drawn back to Dean’s face again and again. His phone was a heavy weight in his pocket and he had a fleeting thought of calling Ruby. Eventually, though, his eyelids grew heavy and it wasn’t long before he dozed off too, head resting against Dean’s.

*

Sam woke up first the next morning, with his head pillowed on his brother’s chest, Dean’s arms wound around his waist. He extracted himself carefully, not wanting to be subjected to teasing, or to be in such close proximity to his brother’s warm body so early in the morning. He dug some boxers out of his duffle and crept into the bathroom, cursing his body and the motel manager and Dean and everything else he could think of, switching on the water and running it as cold as he could stand.

When he came out of the shower, Dean was on the laptop, two cups of coffee and a paper bag at his elbow. “Mornin’ sunshine,” he said without looking up. “The one with the tab down is your girly-ass sugar rush and there’s egg sandwiches in the bag.”

Sam grabbed the appropriate cup and took a big gulp, sighing in satisfaction. “You know, when you’re not being a dick, you’re actually a pretty decent brother.”

Dean flipped him the bird. “I’m awesome all the time,” he corrected, getting to his feet. “Gonna go shower and then we can go talk to the coroner.”

“And go to the library,” Sam reminded him in his sweetest voice and Dean scowled and shut the bathroom door with a little more force than necessary. Sam allowed himself a triumphant little grin and then went to get dressed.

*

Forty minutes later, they were being led into the city’s morgue by a nervous-looking medical assistant.

“Didn’t think they’d get the feds on this so quick,” he commented, twitching away from Sam like he was afraid of him. He glanced up constantly, like he’d never seen a tall person before. If he were less caffeinated, Sam might’ve been annoyed. As it was, he gave the boy a thin smile when he caught his eye, taking the gawking with good grace.

“Five dead in as many days?” Dean said. “Of course we’d be on this. That’s a very efficient serial killer you’ve got there.”

“That it is,” agreed another voice. Sam turned to see a middle aged man in a white lab coat coming towards them. “It would be fascinating if it weren’t so horrifying.”

“And you are…?” Dean prompted.

“Dr. Fuller,” The man answered, extending his hand. “I’m the coroner.”

“Special agents Angus and Young,” Sam told him, shaking his hand and flashing one of their many badges in a single practiced move. “What can you tell us about the vics?”

The coroner shrugged. “Not much, unfortunately. Their hands, as you know, were removed at the wrists, and their hearts were cut out with almost surgical precision. As far as I can tell, they were flayed while they were still alive, so they probably died of shock. I don’t know if it’s significant, but their faces weren’t skinned, just their bodies.”

Sam winced in sympathy and even Dean looked a little nauseated. “Can we see the corpses, Dr. Fuller?”

The coroner nodded, leading them over to the body freezer and pulling out five drawers, one after another, all in a line. Sam lifted the sheet on the nearest body and found himself looking into the face of Jenevieve Davies.

“Did any of the victims know each other?” Sam asked, studying the girl’s still face. She looked far too peaceful for the gruesome death she had to have experienced and it unsettled him, even after years of this kind of stuff.

“In a town this size? I’d be more surprised if they _didn’t_ know each other. But none of them were related or dating or especially close, so we didn’t think it was a red flag.”

“Do they share any other common characteristics?” Dean put in, walking to the next tray and lifting the sheet to look at the victim there.

“All five were single and in their mid-to-late twenties,” Dr. Fuller said. “The police haven’t found any other connections, and there was nothing else worth noting in the autopsies.”

“They were all single?” Dean repeated. There was a light in his eyes that Sam recognized from when he was figuring something out.

“Yes, at least at the time of death,” the coroner confirmed. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you any details, though. The families might be able to fill in the gaps.”

“Thanks, doc,” Dean said, all charm. “You’ve been a great help.” He caught Sam’s eye and jerked his head, _let’s go_.

“Let me know if you boys need anything else from me,” Dr. Fuller said, following them to the foot of the stairs. “I like my job, but I’d rather not be so busy, if it’s all the same to you.”

Sam handed him their card. “If you find anything else, be sure to give us a call.”

He waited until they were out of the building, standing in the cool October sunlight before he turned to his brother. “Okay, what’d you figure out? You look like the cat who got the canary.”

“Virgins, Sammy,” Dean answered. “All our vics so far were virgins. Definitely cult sacrifice.”

“How do you know they were virgins?” Sam protested. “Single doesn’t mean virgin—you’re single and you’re _definitely_ not a virgin.”

“But the fact that they were all single, plus two of them led an abstinence-til-marriage rally last week and another one got dumped by her boyfriend last month because she wouldn’t sleep with him—that makes a pretty compelling argument, doesn’t it?”

Sam stopped midstride, staring at his brother in disbelief. “How d’you know all that?”

Dean grinned. “Willard told me.”

“Willard?”

“Coroner’s assistant? Curly red hair, about yea high?” Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. “Dude, were you paying attention at all?”

“I was! I just didn’t see you talking to him,” Sam grumbled. He could only imagine the over-the-top flirting Dean would’ve engaged in to get info out of the kid, and he was irritated against his better judgment. No point in getting annoyed with something so intrinsic to his brother’s personality. If a forty-year stint in Hell hadn’t taken away Dean’s tendency to flirt with anything on two legs, Sam doubted anything would.

It was only when Dean snapped his fingers inches from Sam’s nose that he realized he’d been frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling jealous of a nervous college kid. He really needed to reevaluate his life.

“Where’d you go there, space cadet?” Dean asked curiously.

Sam shook his head. “Nowhere. You’re probably right about the virgin thing,” he added, in hopes of distracting his brother.

It worked. “Do my ears deceive me?” Dean said. “Or did you just admit that I was right?”

“I said _probably_ ,” Sam corrected, because it wouldn’t do to inflate Dean’s ego too much. “I still think we should double-check, just in case.”

“Great!” Dean agreed, way too readily. “You head to the library and get started on that research and I’ll go interview the families of the deceased.”

“You just want to get out of research!” Sam accused.

Dean looked completely unrepentant. “Yeah, well. You wanna go ask these poor people if their dead kids were virgins or not?” He grinned; he had Sam beat and he knew it.

“Fine,” Sam said and Dean let out a little whoop. “But you come straight back when you’re done. We’ll cover more ground between the two of us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean flapped his hand impatiently. “C’mon, I’ll drive you to the library.”

Sam sighed and climbed into the car with his brother. Some things never changed.

*

Sam only got in about an hour of research before his phone started ringing, loudly. The librarian shot him a dirty look and he fumbled to answer it. “Dude, what? I’m in the library.”

“Forget to turn off your ringer, Sammy?” Dean asked, smirk evident in his voice, “Doesn’t matter, I’m coming to get you anyway.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, even though he was pretty sure he already knew.

“Body number six happened,” Dean confirmed. “They found her in the woods half an hour ago.”

“Dammit.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed dully. “Be there in ten, okay?” He disconnected the call before Sam could respond, and Sam knew that he was just as upset about this new death as he was.

The librarian was still glaring a hole in the side of his face, so he gathered his things and went outside to wait for Dean on the front steps. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the woman wasn’t still watching him before pulling out the book he’d lifted and rifling through to find the place he’d left off.

He was still reading when the Impala rumbled up five minutes later. Dean gave him a tight smile as he slid into the passenger seat. “Any leads, Poindexter?”

Sam shrugged. “Got a couple theories, but nothing concrete yet.”

“Maybe getting a good look at the crime scene will give us some insight,” Dean said hopefully. “I really wanna get this son-of-a-bitch.”

“I’m sure it’s a god or goddess, I just haven’t pinned down which yet,” Sam answered. “Once we know that, we can figure out how to kill it.”

Dean nodded. “You can add the virgins thing to your list—the other two victims had never dated before, so as far as we can tell…”

“All likely virgins,” Sam agreed. “Okay, that actually does narrow it down.”

“Awesome.” Dean threw the car into park and Sam could see the yellow police tape just a few yards off. “Let’s go see what this crime scene can tell us.”

They flashed their badges to a couple of town officers and got waved in immediately, trudging over to where the corpse was hidden under a white sheet.

“Penny Harrison, age 21, was found this morning by some joggers in the area,” one of the officers told them. “She’s just like the others, no hands, no heart, no skin, no clothes. What kind of psychopath are we dealing with here?”

“That’s what we’re here to figure out,” Dean said in an authoritative voice. “Has anything been disturbed by your men?”

“Naw, they told us you’d be coming, so we didn’t do anything.”

“That’s great…Phil,” Dean said, stealing a glance at the cop’s badge. “So can we have a moment to see what we can see?”

Phil nodded. “I’ve got the bare minimum of men, and even they can back off and give you guys the chance to take a look-see. We’re just appreciative that the FBI even bothered to send anyone out to us.”

“Thanks, Phil,” Sam said in dismissal, and the cop left, easy as that, herding a couple of the other officers out of the way, too. Sam waited until they were all lurking over by the patrol cars before he lifted the sheet. She was same as all the others, skin gone, from the shoulders down and Sam’s stomach twisted looking at the bloody stumps where her hands used to be.

“What’s this?” Dean said suddenly, reaching out and picking something up from behind Penny’s knee. It was small, about the size of a quarter, and square-shaped.

Sam took it carefully in his hand and studied it; it was a tile, depicting what looked like a headless woman with snakes sprouting from her neck. He grinned in spite of himself, glad that the cops were facing the opposite direction, or they might think he was the crazy one.

“I know who it is, Dean,” he said in an undertone. Dean’s eyebrows twitched up in surprise. “I know who it is, but we have to go back to the room and figure out how to kill her.”

“Fuckin’ genius, kid,” Dean muttered appreciatively, and Sam tried hard not to look too pleased. He snapped a couple of pictures of the tile on his phone, just in case, and then passed it back to Dean, who carefully placed it back behind Penny’s knee. “Let’s get out of here; the sooner we gank this bitch, the better.”

*

“Coatlicue,” Sam said, turning the laptop so his brother could see. “Also known as Teteoian. Aztec goddess of the earth.”

Dean leaned over the back of Sam’s chair to get a better look, beer bottle dangling loosely from his fingers. Sam could feel the heat of him all up and down his spine. “Goddess of the Earth? Are we gonna kill Mother Nature tonight?”

“The Aztec variation anyway, yes,” Sam said. “I mean, she’s taken at least six victims herself.”

“And we’re sure it’s her?” Dean confirmed and Sam bobbed his head in agreement.

“Teteoian was known to desire sacrifices of virtuous girls, who had to be skinned alive on the altar,” Sam read to him, grinning when Dean pulled a face, “although now-a-days, she seems less picky about the gender of her victims.”

“So how do we kill her?” Dean asked, cutting straight to the chase.

“Looks like she has to be decapitated with a bronze knife, and stabbed through the heart so she won’t regenerate.”

“You mean if we just cut off her head, she’d grow another one?” Dean exclaimed. “That’s kind of awesome.”

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was still deep in his personal space; it was a good idea to focus on how ridiculous he could be sometimes. Even if at the moment it seemed more adorable than annoying.

“Okay,” Dean said, finally moving away. “So we should go out there tonight, before they take victim number seven.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “The seventh victim is really important; lore says that the seventh sacrifice will make her more powerful than ever.”

“We should get some shut-eye and we can head out there after dark,” Dean suggested. “I took a look at that mine entrance after I talked to the victims’ families and there’s no way we could creep up on it in the daylight. We have about four hours til sunset, so sleep and then food, and then we’ll head out there.”

Sam kicked off his shoes and stretched, thankful that their father had included this anytime-you-get-the-chance soldier napping in their childhood training. At this point, it was pretty easy for Sam to fall asleep on command.

Dean just watched him as he shucked his over shirt and jeans, but made no move to do the same

“You coming to bed, dude?” Sam asked, and then winced at how it sounded. Dean didn’t even tease him though, just shook his head tightly.

“Maybe in a minute. I wanna read up more on this Teteoian,” he lied, and Sam frowned.

He wanted to ask if it was about Hell; if Dean was afraid his nightmares would get the best of him again. But then he thought of Ruby and the icy buzz in the back of his brain, and he closed his mouth. If he was keeping secrets, it was only fair to let Dean have his own.

“And they call me the geek,” he joked instead, and Dean grinned and flipped him off.

“Go to sleep, Princess, don’t wanna have to gank this bitch all by my lonesome because you were too tired.”

Sam made a face at him, but flopped back on the pillows like he was told. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing deep and it wasn’t long before the sound of Dean typing at the keyboard faded away and he fell into sleep.

*

When the cheap motel alarm jarred him awake five hours later, Sam could tell immediately that something was wrong. The room was dark; laptop closed, lights off, and the sun had set. But more importantly still, Dean was gone.

“Dean?” Sam said, flipping on the bedside lamp and washing the room in a yellowish glow. His brother was nowhere to be seen and the bathroom door hung open, dark inside.

Okay, so maybe he’d already gone to pick up dinner or something, but Sam didn’t see a note anywhere. He got up and started to look for clues to where his brother might’ve gone.

The car keys were sitting on the table next to the laptop.

Sam flipped open his phone and pressed his first speed dial. It rang through to voicemail. _Hey this is Dean, you know what to do._

“Dean, where are you?” Sam muttered into the phone. “We’re on a case, I hope you’re not off seducing some townie.”

He hung up and tried Dean’s other cell. It went to voicemail as well. Sam was starting to feel a little panicked, so he scooped up the Impala keys and left the motel room, locking the door behind him. The car was exactly where they’d parked her when they got back from the crime scene, gleaming under the streetlights.

Sam dialed Dean’s third phone. Halfway through the second ring, he realized he could hear the faint sound of Zeppelin. He walked towards the sound and suddenly it cut off. He stopped by the driver’s side door of the car, confused.

_Hey this is Dean’s other, other cell. You know what to do._

Sam looked down to see Dean’s phone lying on the pavement between his feet. Worse still, when he knelt down to pick it up, there were two dark spots on the concrete next to it that he recognized immediately.

Blood.

Sam would’ve laughed if it wasn’t so terrifying.

They had taken his brother.

*

Sam parked the car half a mile from the entrance to the mines and went the rest of the way on foot, every drill his father had ever given him about moving quickly and quietly running through his head. The entrance looked boarded up on first glance, but a couple of the boards were loose enough to pull back and slip through without a problem.

The hallway was cut straight into the earth and was very narrow, the ceiling so low that Sam had to duck to keep from bashing his head. All at once he remembered the report he’d read on the place. _Structural insecurities_ , it had said. Sam had never been a fan of enclosed spaces—too many experiences being tied down or caged to make him comfortable with that—but his brother was down there. He wasn’t about to lose Dean again.

Sam tucked the bronze knife into the back of his jeans because there was no way to walk down such a narrow corridor with it in his hands. He flipped his penlight on the lowest setting and cautiously made his way forward.

For the third time that day, Sam found himself being grateful to his father; though it seemed like hours he’d been down in the darkness of the mines, Sam had a perfect internal clock, thanks to John. It couldn’t’ve been more than fifteen minutes before he started to see the glow light from a doorway. He flipped off his light and shoved it into his pocket, creeping the last couple of steps to the entrance.

The corridor opened up on a fairly wide room, with a high cavernous ceiling. If Sam was remembering his schematics correctly, it was directly below the town’s water supply.

At the opposite end of the room, Sam could see two people: a black hooded figure and Dean.

His brother was dangling from the ceiling in wrist shackles, and he was chained at the ankles too, his body pulled into an X. Sam could see, even from this distance, how he was struggling to stay on tiptoe so that his wrists wouldn’t have to take his whole weight. Sam felt a rush of icy fury. He pulled out the bronze knife and crept forward, keeping to the shadows.

“I’m tellin’ you kid, I know what kind of sacrifices you need and I ain’t one of ‘em,” Dean was saying when Sam got close enough to hear. His voice was all bravado, but Sam could see how pale his face was, saw him lick his lips in a tell John had never been able to break him of. “So why don’t you just let me go before something happens that we both regret.”

The hooded figure laughed. “Dean, Dean, Dean. So funny. But you clearly don’t know anything about Teteoian at all.”

Sam realized with a start that he recognized that voice and his suspicions were confirmed when the man threw back his hood and Sam could see his face in the firelight.

It was Willard. The awkward, scrawny conorner’s assistant was a serial killer.

“Teteoian prefers virgin sacrifice, it’s true,” he continued, stalking towards Dean in a way that seemed threatening despite his awkwardness on their first meeting. “But what she’s really looking for is virtue. And who’s more virtuous than Dean Winchester, monster hunter and hero?”

Dean laughed bitterly and it was a sound Sam had never heard from him before. “I’m hardly a hero, kid.”

Willard stepped even closer and Dean winced as he pressed the point of his knife just under his chin. “You’ll do for our purposes.”

He stepped back, raising his arms and spreading them wide. “ _Coatlicue yo te invoco tu. Acércate y acepta este sacrificio en tu nombre._ ” The torches on the wall flared bright for a moment and Sam shrank back into the shadows, hoping he hadn’t been seen.

Dean and Willard were looking in the other direction, though, and Sam followed their gaze.

A beautiful woman was stepping out of the fire, smiling predatorily. Her skin was the color of caramel, and she had long, thick black hair that fell to her waist. But around her neck, she wore a necklace made of hands, and there were bone bracelets on her wrists. Her green skirt undulated lightly as she moved towards Dean, and Sam suddenly realized that it was writhing--it was _alive_.

“Snakes,” Dean bit out, like he couldn’t resist it. “Why’d it have to be snakes?”

If they survived this, Sam was gonna kill him.

“This is the one?” Teteoian asked, her voice lilting as she peered at Dean. “Dean Winchester, the hunter with a Christ complex.”

“Fuck you,” Dean spit. “Can we just get this show on the road please?”

And now he was baiting the goddess. Sam was definitely gonna kill him.

“You mind your tongue with her!” Willard hissed, “I’m gonna skin you alive and then Teteoian is going to devour your flesh while you watch.”

Dean gave a brittle laugh. “That the best you can do, Mola Ram? I’ve been through worse.” He tilted his chin defiantly, but his face was still white under his freckles.

Sam weighed his options. He could rush them, use the element of surprise, but there were still two of them, and one was a goddess. He cast a look around the room, seeking out something to use to his advantage; his eye fell on a black table next to Dean, covered in candles, with a statue of Teteoian right in the middle. An altar.

Willard was chanting again, with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, so Sam took his chance. He ran at the altar, sweeping the knife like a baseball bat and knocking everything off the table. He heard the sound of glass smashing and flipped the table for good measure, spinning on his heel with the knife raised defensively.

Teteoian let out a bloodcurdling shriek and a fissure appeared in the ceiling with a terrific crack. “You said the other one would never find this place!” She snarled, rounding on Willard.

“I—I—“

“Enough!” she roared and her sharp-taloned hand punched through his sternum. Willard’s eyes went wide and then he sagged to the floor when she withdrew her hand, covered in his blood. “And as for you…” she growled, advancing on Dean.

Sam didn’t give her a chance for a repeat performance. He dove between them and swung the blade, cutting off her head in a single smooth stroke. Teteoian gave another wail and he pulled the blade back and stabbed her in the heart. The ceiling cracked further and water started to pour down as the goddess’ body crumpled at Sam’s feet.

“Thank fuck!” Dean shouted to be heard over the rush of the water. “I really didn’t want to get flayed alive!”

“Don’t thank me yet!” Sam pointed out, making his way to him and starting to pick the lock on his right wrist. “We may drown before we get out of here.” The shackle fell free and Sam took as much of his brother’s weight as he could manage while picking the lock on his other wrist. Dean stifled a cry when the second shackle snapped open, and Sam could see, just barely through the falling water, that his wrists were torn and bloody. He made quick work of the ankle shackles and then threw Dean’s arm over his shoulder to help him hobble to the doorway.

It was caved in.

“Now what?” Dean asked, peering up at him through dripping hair. Sam racked his brains, trying to remember the schematics of the place and then let out a burst of surprised laughter. “What?”

“Now we make our escape in a mine cart.” Sam answered.

“Are you serious?” Dean asked, eyes lighting up, even though he was still clearly in pain.

“Yeah, there’s a mine track that dumps out the backside of the hill,” Sam said, rolling his eyes, “C’mon, we don’t have much time.” He half-dragged his brother towards the opposite end of the room, where he remembered from the blueprints that the tracks were located. He didn’t want to hurt Dean any more than he already was, but the water was already ankle deep and rising. Dean was trying his best to move quickly, but he was clearly struggling. God only knew how long he’d been dangling there, like meat on a hook. The thought made Sam furious all over again.

Dean staggered again and Sam reacted automatically, scooping him up bridal style and trudging through the churning water. Even though Dean had reflexively wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck, it only took him a second to start bitching.

“Put me down, Sam, I’m not a fuckin’ girl!” He protested, squirming in Sam’s grip.

“Dude, you can barely walk and if we don’t get out of here soon, we’re gonna drown.” Sam punctuated the statement with another sloshing step through the now knee-deep water.

Dean glanced down at the rising water and stopped fussing, arms tightening around Sam’s neck. “Fine,” he grumbled, “But we never speak of this again.”

Sam turned his face away so Dean couldn’t see him grinning. “Fair enough.”

By the time they made it to the end of the room, the water was up to Sam’s thighs. He carefully lowered a scowling Dean into the mine cart, just as something floated by and bumped his hip. For an awful moment, Sam was sure it was going to be Willard’s heart, but it was the idol of Teteoian, which had apparently survived Sam’s assault on the altar. Sam shoved it into his pocket on a whim before climbing into the cart behind Dean.

“So, uh,” Dean started, “You’re sure this’ll get us out of here?”

“If the blueprints were accurate, yeah,” Sam said firmly, “I mean, as long as the path hasn’t caved in. And as long as the cart moves faster than the water.”

“So we’re looking at like…30% chance of survival?” Dean said with a kind of manic smile. Sam grinned back just as recklessly.

“Yeah, basically.”

“I can work with 30%.”

Sam threw the brake on the rail. Within about thirty seconds, it became apparent that worrying about the cart’s ability to outrun the water was laughable; they gained momentum so quickly that Sam started fearing they would fly straight off the rails. His hands fisted in the back of Dean’s shirt and he tried not to freak out.

Dean, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. He let out a whoop as they hit the first curve in the track, even as Sam barely managed to bite back a panicked yelp. The metal screeched and he gripped Dean’s shirt tighter still, knuckles turned white. He shot a glance back to se the water rushing through the tunnel behind them.

“This is insane!” He yelled.

“This is awesome!” Dean cried gleefully.

They plummeted through a couple more twists and turns, and some drops that were more terrifying than any roller coaster Sam had ever experiences before the exit loomed ahead and Sam abruptly remembered that it was a fifteen foot drop to the forest floor.

Sam didn’t have time to warn his brother before the cart slammed into the bumper at the opening. It lurched to a stop, but Sam and Dean were flung forward over the lip of the cart and through the exit cut into the wall of the cave. The water burst through immediately behind them and Sam had the strangest sensation of falling through a waterfall for a moment and then he hit the ground, hard.

“Ow.” Sam groaned, giving himself a moment to just lie in the mud and recover. He ached all over and was sure he’d be sporting some nice new bruises in the next couple of days, but nothing seemed broken. After a moment, he dragged himself gingerly into a sitting position and looked around. “Dean?”

He spotted his brother lying in a heap on the ground a few yards away. “Dean?” When he didn’t respond, Sam was suddenly so afraid he couldn’t breathe. He crawled over to Dean’s side, ignoring the way his body screamed in protest.

“Dean?” He whispered, turning his brother gently onto his back, hands fluttering uncertainly over his chest. “Dean, c’mon, please!”

For a long, awful moment, Sam thought he’d lost his brother again and he started to shake, self-control crumbling away.

Then Dean shot halfway into a sitting position, gasping for air, his cheeks flooding with color.

“Oh—oh God,” Sam managed, halfway to hyperventilating, and then he hauled his brother up into a kiss.

Dean made a startled noise and wrenched away, groaning when the movement jostled his ribs. “Whoa, Sammy, what the hell?”

Sam just shook his head, like it would erase what he had just done. Thirteen years he’d managed to keep this to himself and now he’d blown it over a stupid, simple case. Images of Dean looking disgusted, telling him to leave and never come back, ran through his head. He was so worked up he was hiccupping a little bit.

Dean didn’t look disgusted, though, just bemused. “Little too much adrenaline for you, Sammy?”

“You almost died again, you fucking jerk!” Sam blurted, “You can’t just leave me like!”

“So that was your idea of a Kiss of Life?” Dean said in a pathetic attempt at a joke, “Not exactly how it works, bro.”

“No, that was probably the result of an emotional breakdown over the fact that I’ve been in love with your dumb ass since I was a teenager and you’ve being trying to die on me the whole goddamn time!” Sam shouted, words spilling from his mouth like he was possessed. Oh God, what was he _doing_?

Dean blinked once, twice. “Oh.” He said inelegantly.

There was a long moment of silence, punctuated only by the dripping of water and the wind blowing through the trees. Sam and Dean sat in the mud and stared at each other. Sam couldn’t believe himself, and it looked like Dean wasn’t sure how to proceed either, so he started talking again.

“Now, do you mind if we get the hell out of here?” Sam continued, “I’m cold, and wet, and hungry, and your wrists need treated.”

“Oh.” Dean said again, “Yeah, okay.”

“We’re about a mile from the car,” Sam said, getting to his feet, “You need help?”

Dean grimaced. He hated asking for help, but he knew just as well as Sam did that it would take way less time if he let Sam assist him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Sam pulled him to his feet and got a shoulder under Dean’s arm, taking as much of his weight as he could without just carrying him. That was definitely not going to fly for a second time tonight, especially after all the stuff Sam had said. Dean was tense at his side, though whether it was from their proximity or from whatever additional injuries he had sustained in the fall, Sam couldn’t tell. After a moment, he relaxed just enough to get moving and they started the arduous trek back to the Impala.

*

By the time they reached the car, Sam was wondering if his behavior in the woods really _had_ been some sort of mental breakdown. As if kissing Dean hadn’t been bad enough, confessing to a decade-long, decidedly unfraternal love for his brother was easily the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

And this from the guy who’d been fucking an actual demon over the summer. But, he reminded himself, at least Dean didn’t know about that.

Dean hadn’t said a single word since they’d headed for the car, and when they finally got there, he slid into the passenger seat without complaint. Sam wasn’t sure how much of it was because of his confession, and how much was due to Dean’s injuries, but either way it made him incredibly anxious.

“You want food?” Sam finally asked once they were back on the road. Dean nodded. “Drive-thru okay?” Another nod. “Cheeseburgers sound good?”

Dean nodded again and Sam gave up. He went through the only drive-thru in town and picked up some cheeseburgers (extra onions for Dean) even though he didn’t really have an appetite anymore.

“Lemme see your wrists,” Sam said as soon as he closed the motel room door behind them, in an attempt to deter conversation.

He needn’t have bothered. Dean just plopped down on the edge of the mattress and extended his hands without a word. It was horribly unsettling. Sam was beginning to wonder if he’d accidentally turned his brother permanently mute.

He distracted himself with treating Dean’s wrists. The metal shackles had cut deep into the skin and the gashes were still bleeding pretty badly. Purpling bruises were already starting to fill in around the gashes, giving an even more gruesome appearance.

Sam hissed in sympathy. “Jesus, Dean, how long were you hanging there?”

Dean’s hands twitched in his, but he didn’t give any more of an answer than a half-hearted shrug.

“I’m gonna have to flush these before I can wrap them,” Sam continued, like Dean’s ongoing silence wasn’t freaking him the fuck out, “Bathroom, c’mon.”

Dean didn’t look pleased by the prospect, but he followed Sam into the tiny bathroom and held his hands over the sink, like they’d both done a hundred other times, in a hundred other motel rooms across the country. Sam tried to make it quick, pouring a bottle of holy water over his wrists. Dean grunted, but otherwise gave no indication of how much it had to hurt. Some dirt washed down the sink, along with blood, and hopefully anything nasty from the mineshaft. Once he was satisfied, Sam grabbed one of the scratchy motel towels and patted Dean’s skin dry as gently as he could, and then set to work covering both wrists with a thick layer of greasy Neosporin.

He was wrapping bandages around his brother’s wrists when Sam became aware that Dean was watching him. The expression in his eyes was completely unreadable. Slowly, Sam finished winding the second bandage, looking up at Dean once it was secured. “Dude. What?”

Dean still didn’t say a word and Sam’s anxiety grew. “If you’re trying to figure out the best way to tell me to leave, just say it,” he snapped, and to his horror, his voice cracked right in the middle, “I get it, okay? I’m a freak, and I’m sorry, but--”

“Sammy,” Dean said abruptly, “You talk too much.”

Before Sam could say anything to defend himself, Dean grabbed him roughly by the scruff of the neck and yanked him suddenly into a kiss.

“Mmm?” Sam said a little helplessly as Dean ran his tongue across his bottom lip and _Jesus_ his brother knew how to kiss. He let Dean crowd him up against the sink, hands on his face and lick his way into Sam’s mouth like it was his property. It was easily the best kiss Sam had ever had.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, trying unsuccessfully to put some space between them. Dean still had him shoved up against the counter, though, so he couldn’t really go anywhere. “I—I’m confused.”

Dean laughed a little nervously. “C’mon, Sammy, you know I’m no good with talking.”

“But in the woods…you looked completely freaked out!” Sam protested.

“Well, _yeah_! I mean, I had like fourteen years to get used to how I felt about you,” Dean said, eyes darting away, “But I never really thought that you’d feel the same. I wasn’t gonna _do_ anything about it.”

“How do you feel about me, Dean?” Sam tried.

Dean glared at him. “You fuckin’ well know how. Don’t make me say it.”

And, Sam realized, he really did know. He’d just been through four months of waking up every morning and remembering exactly how much Dean loved him.

“Are we done with the hearts and rainbows?” Dean snarked, “Because I would really like to get back to the kissing.”

Sam grinned and flipped their positions in answer, trapping Dean against the sink with his hips and kissing him so hard that he thought he might be going a little crazy. Dean growled into his mouth and gave as good as he was getting, shoving Sam back through the bathroom doorway and out into the room, until he felt the mattress against the back of his knees.

Maybe that motel manager had had some foresight after all.

*

Sam woke up the next morning to the tinny sound of Dean’s Zeppelin ringtone from the bedside table. He fumbled for it and managed to get it open, pressing it to his ear without looking to see who the caller was. “’lo?”

“Sam?” Bobby asked, “Did you get it?”

“Oh, hey Bobby!” He said warmly. Dean stirred next to him and blinked sleepily up at him and he mouthed _it’s Bobby_ , trying not to grin too much at the image of a drowsy, debauched Dean with bedhead. “Putting you on speaker, Bobby.”

“So I take it you boys took care of whatever it was?” Bobby said.

“Yeah, it was Teteoian, the Aztec goddess.”

“We ganked Mother Earth,” Dean snickered and Sam gave him a pointed look, “Okay, Sam ganked Mother Earth. I was a little…tied up.”

“I knew you boys’d figure it out,” Bobby said and Sam could hear the pride in his voice.

“Hey, there was also this idol of Teteoian there, carved out of cedar,” Sam remembered suddenly, “Is that something you might want to get a look at?”

“Aztecs ain’t really my thing,” Bobby answered, “But I got a professor friend in Stockton—teaches at the University of the Pacific. He’s an anthropologist, so that’d be right up his alley. Dr. Jones, is his name.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to look at Sam. _No way_ , he mouthed.

“I’ll email you his contact details later today and let him know you’re sending the idol,” Bobby continued obliviously, “You boys take care of yourselves, you hear?”

“Yes sir.” They said in unison and Sam ended the call.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“You don’t think--” Dean started and Sam cut him off with a hesitant laugh.

“No, no way. It can’t be. Can it?”


End file.
